


Whispers in Firelight

by tejaswrites



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Circle Mage Bethany Hawke, F/M, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Third Person, Post-The Last Straw, confession of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26148856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tejaswrites/pseuds/tejaswrites
Summary: After Meredith’s defeat, Sebastian has once again lost almost everything he holds dear. Injured and alone, he takes refuge at the empty Hawke estate, where he finally accepts the direction the Maker laid out for his life.
Relationships: Bethany Hawke/Sebastian Vael
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15
Collections: Black Emporium 2020





	Whispers in Firelight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dabbingslytherin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dabbingslytherin/gifts).



> Thank you so much to Eilfiadh for the beta!

The city was unnaturally quiet; not a single citizen wandered about. Sebastian quickly traversed the streets of Hightown until he came to the door he knew all too well. He fumbled in his pocket for the key Hawke had urgently pressed into his hands no more than half an hour before, and it was with trembling hands that he fitted it into the lock and turned.

There was a soft click that seemed to bounce off the silent walls of the city and with a loud groan, he pushed the door and slipped inside. He locked it behind him and turned to face the darkness of the Hawke estate.

In the main room, a single candle burned. As he allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness, he thought about the solemn emptiness that had settled over the estate in previous years. Where it had once been full of joy and life, it had gone silent and cold when they’d lost Leandra. Though she was Hawke’s—and Bethany’s—mother, her death had left a gaping hole in the lives of all those who’d found themselves drawn into the Hawke family. Leandra had done so much to bring the old estate back to life—to turn the house into a home—and now it was doomed to more tragedy and darkness.

Especially after today.

Sebastian took several lumbering steps toward the main room. His left foot sliding against the floor seemed all too loud after the unrelenting silence in the aftermath of the explosion and the subsequent battle that threatened to destroy the city.

“Take this. It’s yours as long as you need it,” Hawke had told him as she pressed the key into his hand in the seconds before she fled. After what she’d done, she didn’t have a choice. The others might be able to protect her, but she couldn’t stay. Not after she’d defended the mages, and not after what Anders had done.

He reached the lonely chair in front of the fireplace. A solitary candle burned low on the side table astride it. With a sigh, he shrugged his sheath over his shoulder and set it and his bow down before efficiently removing each piece of his armor until he wore little more than his underclothes—a simple white shirt and linen trousers.

Freed of his armor, Sebastian reached down to feel out the gash on his left thigh. He couldn’t see it in the dim candlelight, but from what he could tell it was worse than he’d initially thought. The combination of adrenaline and panic had made it seem like nothing more than a light slash, but now, in the aftermath, he could tell it was deep.

Bracing himself against the chair, he lowered to the ground as carefully as he could, ignoring the pain that shot through his body. With the cold floor beneath him, he leaned his back against the chair and took slow breaths, willing the pain to stop. Until he could see, there was nothing he could do, so he slid toward the fireplace. By some gift of the Maker—or some foresight of Hawke’s—there was wood already in place, so all he had to do was locate the other materials to get it started, which he quickly found stashed to the side.

It didn’t take much for him to get one of the small fire-starting twigs to light, and he gently blew at it to encourage it to grow and for it to catch the larger logs on fire.

As he worked the flame, his thoughts were of what happened and how he’d ended up here, pained and alone. It was the only other safe place he knew, now that his own home here in Kirkwall was gone. Obliterated, along with all those inside. Tears slid down his cheeks as the images overwhelmed him. Time had seemed to stand still as that pillar of light rose up over them, before the explosion that followed rained debris down over the city. Chaos erupted around them, and the screams of those caught up in it reached his ears. There was death, so much death, and so much of it could have been prevented. 

He looked down at his hands. Outwardly they appeared clean, but there was blood enough on them. He could remember the look in Hawke’s eyes when he delivered his ultimatum… and the pain as she did what he asked. When she’d asked for his help to defend the mages at the Gallows, he’d followed her unquestioningly, though he would have done it regardless.

Because of Bethany.

Sebastian had never told anyone about the feelings that had developed for the younger Hawke sister over the years. It may have been Hawke that had taken the contract and helped him track down his family’s murderers, but the Maker knew the truth of his heart, and that truth was that he’d stayed close to Hawke because of Bethany.

He could still remember that day in the Chantry, when Hawke unflinchingly told him she’d completed the contract. As she explained to him what she’d done, it had been the dark-haired woman behind her that captured his interest. He’d seen her at services from time to time, always sitting quietly in the back with her mother, and he’d leapt at the opportunity to finally know her name.

 _Bethany_. It was more beautiful than he’d thought a name could be, most perfect for someone like her. Her eyes entranced him, beautiful in their darkness with depths he wished to know, though she’d kept her distance. Later, when he’d tried to start conversations after services, she’d been pleasant and polite, but reserved. As though she were afraid for him to know her.

It was for the best, he’d told himself, especially after she’d gone to the Circle. He couldn’t seem to stop the joy of his soul each time he caught sight of her, couldn’t seem to stop his heart from wanting her, even if nothing could ever come of it. He was a Chantry brother and she was a mage. They were doomed before they could even begin.

A loud sigh escaped his lips. It didn’t matter. In the chaos after Meredith, she’d disappeared like her sister. He’d looked for her in the moments after they’d walked out of the Gallows, but she was already gone. Sebastian took comfort in knowing that she was alive, somewhere out there. Tonight could have ended differently for all of them.

He would have to get out of the city as soon as he could. He glanced down at his leg, the pain now little more than a dull throb. It needed time to heal, so he’d stay here at the Hawke estate and lie low for a few days before heading for Starkhaven. His cousin may sit on the throne, but the true Vaels still had friends in the city. Friends that he would call upon to help him take back his birthright.

Fire had finally begun to take hold of one of the larger pieces of wood when he heard the scrape of the lock reopening on the front door. 

Without thinking, Sebastian sprung into action. His leg throbbed painfully as he crouched behind the chair, arrow pointed at the main entrance, though no one came through it. Whoever it was must have noticed the fire because silence enveloped the house once more. The gentle crackle of flames taking hold were loud, echoing in Sebastian’s head as he took a quiet breath in and slowly blew it back out, holding the nocked arrow steady. 

“Sebastian?” 

_Bethany_.

At the sound of her voice, he immediately lowered the arrow. There was a brief pause before she hesitantly stepped into the firelight and a thrill zinged down his spine and his heart seemed to beat a thousand times louder. He cleared his throat, willing his foolish heart to calm itself, and dipped his head. “Lady Hawke.” 

Bethany blinked at him as though surprised by his greeting, before she shook her head and gestured at the room. “What are you doing here?” 

“Ahh…” Sebastian started, but couldn’t find the words. Whenever he was near Bethany, he lost all ability to think rationally and tonight would be no different, that much was clear.

After the silence dragged on for several uncomfortably loud beats of his heart, she let her gaze wander around the room and asked, “Is Marian here?”

“You know she couldn’t stay, not after what happened,” he said with a prolonged sigh as he looked down at his hands. They were clean. Glaringly so. It wasn’t right that they were after everything that had happened that night.

“After protecting mages, you mean?”

He nodded and she stepped closer, peering up at him. 

“She did that for me.” He nodded again at her soft words, and she continued to gaze up into his eyes. Hers were so much larger than her sister’s, and so much warmer. There was a comfort in them he’d never seen in Hawke’s. Bethany asked, “So she left?” 

“Yes.” Sebastian turned his face away from her. Away from the temptation of her warm brown eyes that seemed to stare into his very soul.

“But you’re here,” she frowned with a slight tile of her head and furrowing of her brow.

He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, shrugging to appear more nonplussed than he felt, he looked back down at her. “I had nowhere else to go.”

Bethany’s eyes widened as she realized why. “Oh, Sebastian, I am so sorry.”

He swallowed, closing his eyes as her fingers tightened around his forearm. The bright light of the explosion... The debris that rained down over the city... The reality of all he’d lost that very evening settled over him. His next breath shuddered against the pain that’d wrapped itself around his heart, the pain that he’d managed to ignore so far tonight.

Bethany slipped an arm around his waist and pressed her head into his chest as he fought the sobs that threatened to break forth from deep within him. For all that he’d survived, this somehow felt… worse. Everything he’d known for the years since he’d been sent away... his entire life had been in that Chantry. It had been his safe haven, his solitude, and his family.

And now it was gone.

But for all that Sebastian had lost, he knew that the Maker would not give him more than he could bear, and He hadn’t.

He cleared his throat, swallowing the last of his emotion back inside, and then forced himself to step away from her. Bethany did not deserve to carry his burden too. The youngest Hawke sibling had borne enough of her own with all that she’d lost in the preceding years. “Enough of that,” he said, keeping his voice as neutral as possible. “What brought you here?” 

Bethany’s lips pressed together as she wrapped her arms around her midsection and looked away. “The same.” 

He frowned, “But the Circle…” 

A shudder ran through her and with horror, Sebastian remembered what had taken place at the Circle that very afternoon. The bodies that littered the ground as they’d fought off the templars. “I… understand.” 

Bethany lifted her chin, nostrils flaring as she took steady breaths. She did not look at him, and instead continued to stare at the wall.

Sebastian gazed at her, wishing he had it within him to wrap his arms around her, as she done for him, but that is not how he gave comfort. “They walk with Maker now.”

She looked back at him. “Some of them, yes.”

Sebastian didn’t have a response for that.

“Well, it is late, we should—”

“Get to bed,” she finished for him. Her eyes darted to the stairs and she hesitated.

Sebastian asked, “When was the last time you were here?” 

Her back stiffened before she glanced at him. “I was able to visit once, after Mother’s… It wasn’t a happy time.” 

No, it had not been. There had been little laughter at the estate after Leandra’s death.

“You have a room here. Upstairs on the far right,” he explained.

“I see.” Bethany gave him a curious tilt of her head. “And what about you?” 

“I’ll sleep down here,” he told her with a soft smile. “It wouldn’t be right to use any of the Hawke family’s rooms.” 

“You can’t do that!”

“It is certainly no hardship, Lady Hawke.” 

“My sister is Lady Hawke,” she quickly responded, “Call me Bethany.”

At her quick response, Sebastian smiled. While it may be true her elder sister bore the title, it was her younger sister that Sebastian most often thought of when he heard the title. Bethany carried herself as though she’d always been a part of the nobility. She was beyond much of those he’d known with her infinite gracefulness and kindness.

Bethany straightened and headed for one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. “Well, I can at least help make you comfortable if you’re going to insist on—”

“Bethany,” Sebastian said her name quietly and she paused, looking back over her shoulder at him. “I can take care of it.” 

She shook her head, grabbed a blanket from the chair, and started putting together a pallet for him near the now full-burning fire. 

Sebastian took a limping step in her direction intent on stopping her and as though she could hear the shuffle in his step, she turned to scrutinize him. Her eyes settled on his leg. “Are you injured?”

“It is nothing.” 

When her eyes lifted to his, there was an annoyed anger in them as she rose to her feet. “Nothing? Why didn’t anyone heal that?” 

“It’s not—” he started to protest, but fell silent as her hand touched his arm. 

She steered him back toward the chair. “Is that why you’re sleeping downstairs? Dear Maker,” she pulled away the ottoman. “I’ll be back in a few moments. Take off your trousers and sit here.” 

“Bethany...” he tried to protest again, but she ignored him and headed back toward the kitchen.

It was a slow, painful process to remove the trousers, the gash on his leg deeper and more pained that he’d realized. It had been from one of the Maker-forsaken statues the crazed knight-commander somehow brought to life. He’d been at a safe distance, but it came to life and with one quick swipe had nearly taken him down. With Anders gone and Merrill no healer, there was little he could do except wrap it up and hope to have it looked at tomorrow.

But by whom? The mages were all apostates, scattered to the wind, and the non-magical healers had plenty to worry about as it was.

He eased himself back into the chair and made sure he was decently covered as Bethany returned with a basin of water and clean cloths. The water smelled pleasant, as though she’d added some herb to it. It reminded him of her, though he didn’t know why. Setting the basin and cloths next to her on the ground, she kneeled before propping his leg up on the footrest and getting to work inspecting the wound.

“I’m not much of a healer, but I’ll do what I can.” Her fingers were gentle as she explored the tender flesh, though several times he sucked in a breath as pain shot through him. She wetted one of the cloths and started to pat it against the wound.

It burned, and Sebastian sucked in another sharp breath as his head began to spin.

“This will hurt,” she told him as she set the damp cloth aside and placed her hands on either side of the wound.

Sebastian didn’t think it could hurt worse, but somehow it did. Whenever he’d been healed by Anders, it had been a gentle sensation, flowing through his body to help it mend itself, but Bethany’s magic was… sharper, more painful, like his body knitted itself back together.

He hadn’t realized it was over until he felt the gentle pressure of a cloth against his face. He opened his eyes to Bethany’s endless dark eyes that he could stare into forever. Her brow was creased and her lower lip rolled between her teeth. Sebastian had the fleeting thought that he could happily open his eyes to her for all time.

“I am sorry,” she told him, dabbing the sweat at his brow. “Are you all right?” 

He swallowed and tentatively felt out his leg. The pain had lessened. “Good as new.” 

She let out a delicate snort and sat back on her heels. “Hardly, but with the Maker’s blessing, at worst there will be some scarring.” Bethany shook her head, and pulled out a small container and a roll of fabric from the pocket of her robes. When she opened the container, Sebastian got another whiff of the herbaceous scent that had been in the water. “Rosemary,” Bethany explained as she dipped her fingers inside.

She rubbed the salve over the injury, before wrapping it the fabric bandage over it and around his leg. She sat back on her heels once more and rubbed the remainder of the salve into her hands. “There.” 

“Thank you, Bethany.” 

For a brief moment, she beamed back at him before busying herself with the items she’d cleaned his wound with. “Now, we don’t have much down here, but I can finish putting together your pallet.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” he told her softly.

“I know” was all she said before she disappeared back into the kitchen. 

Sebastian must have dozed, because she reemerged what felt like no more than seconds later, piled high with blankets. “I couldn’t find a pillow, so you’ll have to make do with the one from the chair.” 

“It’s more than enough. And more than I deserve.” 

“Why do you say that?” she asked as she added the blankets to the arrangement she’d started in front of the fire. He recognized her tone: curious, but as though she were forcing herself to be neutral.

“I forced Marian’s hand,” he told her, shaking his head as he looked down at his hands. How were they so clean?

“She knows you have your reasons.”

“I’m not certain they’re good enough.” 

She paused and looked up at him, though she was now backlit by the blazing fire and Sebastian couldn’t see the expression on her face. She didn’t respond. Instead, she rose to her feet and came to the side of the chair. “Now, up you go. I’ll help you lie down.”

He glanced back down at the trousers draped over his upper thighs. “I’m not certain…” 

“You are not the first man I’ve seen unclothed,” she told him matter-of-factly.

“I…” He didn’t quite know how to respond to that. “What?”

“Let me help you.” Bethany settled his arm around her shoulders. “On the count of three. One… two… three!” 

Rising back to his feet had been easier than it had been earlier. They shuffled over to the pallet together and Bethany helped lower him to the ground. Once he was settled, she made certain he was tucked in before she turned to leave. 

He heard the stairs creak under the softness of her footfall as she climbed the stairs. The door upstairs opened and clicked shut again, leaving Sebastian alone. In the silence, his mind jumped from thought to thought, memory to memory. Praying alongside Elthina. The kindness of her eyes. Questioning his path in life. The gentle curve of her smile. The warmth of family that he’d found. The warmth of her hands.

Now that she was here, his thoughts continually returned to her. Bethany. She had been a radiant light among so much darkness; a beam of sunshine on the stormiest of days. Her faith in the Maker had been unwavering, even when Sebastian himself had been riddled with doubt in the path He’d laid out.

He stared at the ceiling. Returning to Starkhaven and taking back the throne as the rightful prince had been on his mind more often than it had not, and all that entailed. Were it not for Elthina, he would have left sooner. And were it not for Bethany, a soft voice in his head reminded him.

Tonight, he’d lost everything. Except her. 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing his racing heart to steadiness. There was nothing to keep him in Kirkwall now. The city he’d called home for the past fifteen years was gone, and what it’d left behind in its place was unrecognizable. In Starkhaven, he could start over and with Bethany at his side—

Sebastian’s eyes flew open and he listened. He’d thought there had been a sound, something, but… Yes, there it was. The whoosh of a door as it opened and the same soft footfall that had gone up the stairs now coming down. 

A stair creaked, and she stilled.

He tilted his head up to look toward the stairs, toward her, but the firelight didn’t quite reach. He spoke quietly so as not to startle her when asked, “Is something wrong?” 

“I can’t sleep,” she whispered.

“Neither can I.”

She emerged from the darkness and headed his direction. She hesitated, hovering in front of the lonely chair as though she might sit in it, but with a convicted lift of her chin, asked, “Could I lie next to you?” 

“Absolutely.” He rolled to his side and moved closer to the edge of his pallet to make room for her. His heart pulsed, the sound loud in his ears, and he willed it back to calm as she laid down facing him.She smelled of clean soap and fresh rosemary. Like sunlight, he thought before he could stop himself. Like hope.

She seemed as though she might say something, but she didn’t. Instead, she lowered her gaze and withdrew into herself. It was what she’d done after Leandra’s death when he’d seen her at services. For all her sister’s lament, Bethany was the epitome of calm, though he knew she privately grieved. He’d tried to be there for her then, as he did now, though he didn’t know how. With Hawke it had always been easy, but with it was different with Bethany.

“Do you have something you wish to talk about?”

She opened her eyes and Sebastian swallowed, the sound loud in his ears, as he held her gaze. There was an anguish in them that pained his own heart.

“I was so scared,” Bethany confessed, her voice no more than a whisper. “I thought Meredith would kill me.”

At the thought of losing her, Sebastian’s heart tightened painfully. “Hawke would never allow that.” He took a steading breath, before adding, “Nor would I.”

She was quiet for several long beats of his heart. “You wouldn’t?” 

“Bethany…” He reached between them, intertwining their fingers when he found her hand. “I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.” 

Her eyes widened and they hung suspended in time as they gazed at one another. Sebastian’s heart hammered so loud he swore that she could hear it. When she squeezed his fingers, it took flight.

She rubbed her lips together. Her brows furrowed for a split second before she opened her mouth, but she quickly closed it again, pressing her lips together.

He rubbed his thumb over the side of her hand. “I cannot pretend to understand the Maker’s plan, but I must believe there is a greater purpose for what happened tonight.”

“What could that be?” she asked.

“For some time I've questioned my place in the world. I questioned whether the Chantry was where I could best serve Him, and now…”

She squeezed his hand again. “Now it’s gone.” 

He nodded and waited for the pain to overwhelm him, but it didn’t. It stayed rooted deep inside, locked away in a place to be ignored and dealt with later when it wasn’t so fresh. His rash, desperate words that forced Hawke to action would have consequences, but that would be dealt with at a later time.

“What will you do now?” 

“Starkhaven needs me. I’ll take back the throne.”

The smile she gave him was forced. “Oh.”

He released her hand and brushed the hair that had fallen in her face away, before resting his hand against her cheek. Her eyes were closed, and though she tried to put on a brave face he could see the pain in it. He could see it, because he knew what it felt like to lose everything. To feel that last bit of goodness—that last tiny shard of hope—slipping away. 

For all the subtle flirtations between them over the years, he’d never dared let himself hope that there could be more. There couldn’t have been, not between a Chantry brother and a mage. As the prince of Starkhaven, however, he could do almost anything.

He spoke before the doubt could creep in. “Come with me.” 

Her eyes popped open. “What?” 

“Come with me,” he repeated. 

“Sebastian…”

“I can’t offer you—” he cut off and took a frustrated inhale. “I can’t offer you what you deserve, not yet, but know that I will give you no less than a prince.” 

She didn’t respond, instead she lowered her eyes and blinked several times.

He ran his fingers down her cheek until they were under her chin, which he tipped up to look at him. “What is it?” 

“I’m a mage,” she told him, stubbornly keeping her eyes averted.

“The Maker made you as you are and tonight he has given us a fresh start. Come with me, Bethany, and together we will be the strongest rulers Starkhaven has ever known.”

She shook her head and he again reached for her hand, lifting it to his mouth to press kisses against her fingertips. “Bethany. My feelings for you have only grown with each passing year. We could not be before, but now… Tonight changed everything.”

“Do you really have feelings for me?” she asked.

He gave her fingers another kiss and intertwined their fingers, tucking her hand against his heart. “Since the first time I saw you at the Chantry.” 

“Oh,” she said quietly.

He would ask once more. If she said no or gave no response, he would let it go. He would find some other way to be certain of her safety. “Bethany, will you come with me? Even if you don’t care for me as I—”

“I do,” she interrupted, “but I didn’t think you could feel the same.” She rolled her lips together as she considered what to say next. Finally, she said, “What happens now?” 

“We go to Starkhaven. My family has friends still that I can call upon for help. I can’t promise that it will be easy. The deep dark before dawn's first light seems eternal.”

“But know that the sun always rises,” she finished. She gave his hand a soft squeeze. “Yes, I will come with you.”

He admitted himself a soft smile of his own as he released her hand and once more cupped her cheek in his. He lowered his forehead to hers, closed his eyes, and breathed her in. The Maker had brought them here and given them a chance to help create His worldly glory.

As her breathing slowed and she drifted to the Fade, Sebastian knew this was the path the Maker laid for him. He’d wandered the deep dark for long enough. The dawn would come soon.


End file.
